Starved
by bandanaye
Summary: Erwin finds himself locked in winter's clutches. But will it truly be the cold he has to protect himself from? AU. ErwinxLevi
1. Chapter 1

Starved

Chapter One

* * *

Wet snow splashed on his nose and Erwin glanced up through the trees. Brows furrowing in sync with his frown in displeasure, he clutched the reins tighter in his gloved hands and turned to his comrades.

It was a day well spent hunting. Six conies, a hind, and a few miscellaneous games they could make use of for keeping the cold away. Winter had invaded the land early this year, and every village knew successful hunting tended to be sparse during the season.

Gathering together and calling it a day, the small hunting party began to head back, following their previous tracks and past markers. The slush began to fall from the sky a bit more, and the clouds that provided the foul weather made everything much darker.

Their trek became difficult about halfway back. The slush had turned into a heavy, blinding snowfall, and the downward slope was making it tricky for the horses. Eventually the men had to dismount and lead, their arms aimlessly searching for the rough bark of a tree in hopes of finding a marker now that their footsteps were lost completely.

Pulling his hood over his head and his scarf over his mouth and nose, Erwin squinted through the whiteness, surprised to see only shadows of the other men ahead of him. He marched on slowly, the wetness of the snow shifting again and soaking completely through his heavy fur-lined coat, chilling him to the marrow.

Suddenly Erwin realized he couldn't make out his companions anymore and he stopped, keeping his horse close.

Mike. Erd. Nile. Auruo.

His voice was drowned out as the slush whipped ice. He felt frozen, but knew better than to remain in one place with so little cover. Winding his mount's rope tighter about his hand, Erwin continued on, his eyes darting back and forth between the shrouded trees for the others.

Erwin's sense of direction was usually pretty sharp, but when the slope became much steeper under his feet, his stomach filled with dread. Looking down over the hill, through the snow and growing darkness he could just barely make out a stream at the bottom, and this alleviated his initial fears.

Knowing which way was south, Erwin turned away from the natural cusp, now determined to find his comrades. His voice proved to be a fruitless tool after a few attempts, and he couldn't find any fresh tracks now that the snow was coming down fast.

"Shit."

Caught between the line of survival and responsibility was something that didn't come up very often for Erwin, for he was still young compared to the others. As seemingly irresponsible and hotheaded as Auruo tended to be, he was the leader of their party, followed by Nile, then Erd. Mike only beat Erwin by a couple months.

But now he had to make a decision as he felt the loss of sensation in his fingers, around his ears, and through his feet begin to creep up and slither inward. He was barely able to see, and there was little evidence to be found of his friends. Of course, they all taught the basics of survival since they were little, but the sudden separation was unnerving.

Deciding to start heading south again, Erwin steadied himself against his trembling horse, now on the lookout for distinguishable shelter. Having hunted in these woods most of his life, he knew there were fallen trees and natural alcoves he could huddle under.

His horse neighed, shaking its head against him as the ice began to pelt and Erwin grunted as he felt his numb fingers beginning to lose their grip on the reins. He'd inadvertently ventured into deeper snow too, and now he was practically knee deep. Muttering a frustrated curse, he turned, pulling the horse with him against the shift in snow.

Something must've spooked the horse, but Erwin couldn't see or hear what it might have been. He was jerked around and nearly fell into the biting cold, but what minor grasp he had on the rope dragged him forward, twisting his ankle in the process as the animal lurched ahead, just narrowly missing kicking its owner. He couldn't gauge the distance he was pulled forward, but eventually he lost his balance as well as the horse and what little supplies it held.

Against his better judgment Erwin tugged off his glove and whistled for the animal to come back, but to no avail. He could barely feel his own teeth scrape against the tips of his fingers, and he stuffed the appendage back in and got to his feet, grimacing as freezing-hot pain shot up his leg.

Swearing as he wiped the moisture from his eyes, Erwin shivered as he assessed his condition. The storm didn't seem to be anywhere near finished, and the temperature was rapidly dropping alongside the fading daylight. He could barely see his surroundings or feel his extremities, and he was completely by himself.

His best bet would be the river.

It was excruciatingly difficult. His lack of vision was hindering and by now Erwin knew there was a good possibility he wasn't even heading in the right direction. But he kept plowing forward despite the non-stop shivers overwhelming his body. He thought of making a fire, but the lack of dry wood and his flint made him despair of the idea.

He was also becoming exceptionally tired.

All too quickly did the sun set completely, leaving him in darkness. His trembling hand found a tree and Erwin stopped, gritting his teeth in frustration as he felt his knees begin to buckle and sink. He couldn't rest, not in such freezing temperatures. Yet slowly warmth, although small, began to bloom in his chest, urging him to sit and regain his strength. Like a dog to its true master, his body obeyed and sat in the high snow, his back against the tree. He huddled there, shivering uncontrollably. His mind wandered to his village and how his friends had already made it back. They were probably laughing, in high spirits to be out of the storm, glad they weren't as green as he. He felt happy for them.

For a while Erwin struggled to keep his eyes open and his mind wandering, but eventually the comforting warmth lulled him to sleep.

* * *

Hazy blue eyes open slowly, taking their time to adjust to the lowlight. Their owner's head is beyond groggy, just barely registering something holding his arm upright. A prickling sensation runs down his arm lightly, just barely there, and he wonders why.

He's frozen, isn't he?

…no, no he's not frozen. He can wriggle his toes and feel something that is definitely not snow beneath him, holding him up. Something solid and yet soft. And warm.

His eyes are becoming heavy and his thoughts begin to doze again, but before he succumbs, his arm is let down and the fleeting notion of fingers not his own moving across his skin flits through his mind.

* * *

When Erwin comes to, it's already mid-morning. Again he's slow to come to full consciousness, but he does so gradually and peacefully. His first thoughts are of his rumbling stomach, and he recalls he hadn't eaten since the morning of the hunt. It hurts as his stomach clenches, begging for food, but he pushes the gnawing pain away in favor of a new thought.

'Where am I?'

The roof over his head is wooden and beamed, and from his lied down position he sees a single window covered with glistening ice. The walls and floor are also of a type of cedar, and its then he notices the warmth of the room. There's not a fireplace in sight, but beyond the only door he sees Erwin feels there could be one crackling in another room.

Closing his eyes Erwin sighs. There doesn't seem to be any immediate danger, and for a while he merely listens for other voices – occupants of the space he's in. There are none, and he zeros his attention to the door.

He should have assessed his own physical damage. The moment he tried to sit up a sharp pain burst in his chest, taking his breath away and causing him to fall back onto the thin mattress. Looking down he sees that he'd been stripped of his heavy coats to be left in his dingy undershirt. A dark grey woolen blanket is draped across his lap and Erwin tests his legs, finding that the only injury he recalls sustaining still hurts and is probably swollen.

Swallowing he thinks what he knows over. He lost his comrades in the storm, along with his horse and supplies. He can remember sitting down in a dazed confusion of cold and warmth swirling through his veins. Erwin can't completely be sure of actually waking up between then and now, but he feels there was something else to his clouded memories.

On instinct he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache coming on. It took a moment, but eventually he noticed the pristine white bandages curled around his hand, past his wrist, and about halfway up his forearm. A cold dread settled in his stomach as he noticed his other arm was in similar shape.

It was a feeling he had never experienced before: absolute exhaustion. What little energy he had been able to scrape up when he'd awoken slipped through his hands, leaving him breathless and confused. He felt helpless as he tried with all his might to understand when and how he became so banged up, but nothing jumped out at him, refusing to step out of the mist.

It didn't take long for Erwin to fall under yet again.

* * *

Something cool moved over his forehead, applying a small amount of pressure. Once again Erwin swam to the surface of consciousness, and this time he found he wasn't alone.

The first thing he noticed was the darkness of the room. An orange glow of candlelight was the only source of light, making the wooden interior appear red in color, and forcing Erwin to take his time to adjust his sight. He felt groggy and his stomach yowled in hunger.

The fresh sensation over his head moved to cup around the back of his neck. Blue eyes dragged lazily to the side in search of the source, but suddenly his lips were pressed with yet another cool substance.

"Drink."

He could do little than obey, parting his dry lips and letting the cold liquid slide into his parched mouth and down his constricted throat. As his head began to clear little by little, Erwin slowly came to realize that a hand was holding his head forward and fingers were sifting through his hair to steady him.

In all reality, he hadn't drunk more than half a cup before the mug was taken away, along with the hand that supported him. His eyes were still adjusting, but by now Erwin was able to see the person quietly sitting by the bed: a small fellow, with dark hair just passing their ears. Their movements were silent as the lithe body twisted ever so slightly to put the cup back on an unseen side table before searching for something else.

'A boy,' Erwin thought without too much surprise as the nameless individual finally turned back to him, a bowl puffing with steam in his hands. His thoughts were diverted, however, when a strong, delicious aroma invaded his senses, and caused his stomach to flip viciously.

Eyes half lidded, the boy regarded his noisy stomach with mild interest before turning back to him and pinching the end of the spoon with his thumb, fore, and middle fingers before stirring the bowl's contents.

Pushing himself up onto his elbows was difficult, but hunger drove him to bear through the pain and self-adjust the flat pillow behind him so he could slouch up with some support. The aroma only grew stronger through his efforts, and once he stopped moving did the boy hold out the spoon to feed him.

If nothing else, Erwin relished the heat. The flavor was bitter and hardly edible, but he did his best to swallow it down.

"What…is it?" he asked between spoonfuls, his voice cracking ever so slightly. His mouth tasted foul and his stomach hurt even more now. Looking to his shadowed caretaker, Erwin attempted to read the boy's expression but had little luck in doing so.

Despite the candlelight, the boy looked pale. Everything about him seemed small and fragile, but his eyes defied all physical appearances. Dark eyes stared contemplatively at Erwin but revealed nothing. The spoon dipped back into the bowl.

"Crushed roots," the boy said softly, extending the full utensil back out. Reluctantly Erwin opened his mouth, finding he had nothing else to place his trust in. He reasoned that it should be enough a roof was put over his head.

The rest of the horrid meal was taken in silence, and Erwin was relieved when the boy finally set the bowl aside. Despite the terrible taste, the warm liquid had filled his stomach, and he was beginning to feel sleepy all over again. He felt as if he were about to drift off when the cool sensation returned.

The boy was leaning ever so slightly, his hand pressed against Erwin's forehead. The smallest of frowns upset his thin lips before he muttered, "Lie down."

There was no doubt Erwin was nearly half asleep as the boy's chilled hand swept down his face and ghosted over his exposed neck before supporting him from under his shoulders as he shifted down the bed with a suppressed groan of discomfort. A whoosh of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding passed his lips the moment his back hit the mattress, and his head the flat pillow.

Erwin was vaguely aware of it, and if it weren't for the blurry memory he wouldn't have struggled for a moment more of consciousness. His arm was upright again, and lifting his gaze he was a little surprised to catch those dark eyes staring right back at him. For a moment Erwin felt threatened, as he couldn't tell what those eyes were guarding from him, but the feeling passed the second he realized the boy's hands were at work undoing the bandages.

It was strange how he hadn't noticed how bloodied they were when it was much lighter.

"Sleep," the boy said quietly, reaching out to cradle half of Erwin's face with fingertips. For some time Erwin fought to stay awake if only to see the mysterious damage to his arm, but the light and lulling caresses were easing him into a much more pleasant place. Eventually his eyes closed and he flowed away, thinking of home and how the boy's touches were as soft as snow.

* * *

A/N: first story for this fandom I've been obsessing over, I hope you liked it ^o^


	2. Chapter 2

Starved

Chapter Two

* * *

Erwin's second round in a sun-lit space brings many surprises: the room appears to be falling apart and the wood surrounding him looks to be in mid-decay. The side-table to his left is dusty and what he can make of the floor is worn and dirty. His chest feels like it's been bandaged too tightly in fear of his ribcage collapsing, and its downright terrifying because he can't remember sustaining an injury there. The white bandages around his arms are tight as well but this time they are not stained red.

Grunting as he sat up, Erwin listened for sound, but only the faint twittering of birds drifted to his ears. Eyes locking onto the door, he bit his lip as he shuffled his legs to swing over the thin mattress. Freed from the blankets at last, he took note of his bottom half still clothed in his long undergarments. Looking further, he noticed his bad ankle wrapped up like the rest of his body.

Because his ankle throbbed, Erwin called out first. His voice was hollow and slapped him in the face alongside the silence. Knowing it would be in vain, he tried a couple more times, but no one answered.

It took time and a copious amount of exertion than he would have thought necessary. He was tentative with his weight at first, taking baby-steps adjusting his legs just right and positioning his hands behind and in front of himself. Erwin wouldn't notice it at the time, but the strain in his arms never caused any pain. However, his chest shot sparks of pain and rattled his breath, and the pressure on his legs – never-mind his ankle – was tremendously agonizing. But he pushed through like everything else, knowing he couldn't afford to stay in bed when there were so many unanswered questions.

He felt like his bones were splitting in two and tearing his muscles apart when he began to walk, sweat beading over his brows. Nothing about this situation seemed right, Erwin knew, and with each trembling step he became more and more determined to figure it all out. At last his hand found the door's handle, and with a small effort he pushed it open.

The room before him appeared to be in worse shape than his quarters. It was tiny but sparse of furniture save a table here and a splintered chair there. To his right sat an ancient stone fireplace with smoldering embers which provided the structure's heat. The windows were covered with muck and ice and some floorboards were notched up from disuse. The only other door was shut and bolted, and looked to be heavy and sturdy.

It probably wasn't wise for Erwin to continue moving about. His health was rapidly deteriorating as his breath became labored, and the actual stability of the place was more than likely very unsound. The boards creaked and cracked under his slow-moving weight and as he finally slumped against the doorframe, chips of wood fell to the floor.

"Damn it," he said, frustration reaching its peak. His body was protesting but he felt he couldn't move another inch, and there was no one around to neither hear nor help him. Hating his growing weakness in his seemingly impossible situation, Erwin gradually lowered himself to the floor, resting his back against the disintegrating frame. A sigh of relief whooshed past his lips, but he felt far from it.

It could only be understood he was still in the forest. What he could make through the smeared windows was a confirmation the snow was still falling, but had indeed lightened up a bit. There was a boy he supposed was taking care of him, but he was nowhere to be found and Erwin was beginning to think he was previously hallucinating.

There was a chill settling under his nose now, and Erwin could yet again feel sleep's lofty weight drooping on his eyes. He looked to the small, ruffled bed but knew he couldn't make it back. Cursing softly at his predicament, Erwin gradually fell under once again, his breaths shallow.

* * *

A cool sensation was spreading around his neck when Erwin woke, and if it weren't for the sluggish weight of his body, he would have jumped away from the pale face which filled his vision.

"Finally," the face said with a frown. Erwin blinked as the boy from before scooted back, sitting on his heels. Dark eyes were silently staring at him as one question slipped from thin lips. "How long have you been there?"

His throat felt rough, so Erwin cleared it along with the sudden realization the window was filled with darkness. "I think since this morning." The boy's face soured in turn, and Erwin was sure the word "idiot" was muttered under the boy's breath.

With the atmosphere blacker and deeper than the night sky, Erwin found he was able to sit himself up. He didn't say anything as the boy watched him move to a better positioned slouch.

"Why did you get out of bed?" the boy asked after a rather uncomfortable stretch of silence.

Was it not obvious? "No one came when I called," Erwin answered simply, suppressing his bubbling irritation behind his tongue. "I assume you were out?"

"Hunting." It was said so promptly, so curtly, as if rehearsed. Erwin noticed the boy had averted his gaze. Then the boy stood up to look down on him. "Now you'll have to wait longer for your meal – so troublesome."

There wasn't much need for words as Erwin did his best to assist the boy in heaving him to his feet. Eventually he was upright again, the resulting stretch in his back and hips a welcoming feeling. Unfortunately, it didn't take long for the pain to thaw itself and burden him on his slow trudge back to the bed. Sitting on the edge of the thin mattress and watching the boy unwind himself from his upper body, Erwin made the mistake of looking down.

The bandages around his arms were red again.

"Do you have a name?" he asked. Despite the boy's bitter attitude and the hidden malice in his eyes, Erwin more or less owed him his life.

"Yours first," the boy replied, his back to Erwin as he pulled fresh bandages out from the side-table's drawer. A bowl of clean water already sat atop the wood and Erwin felt his stomach tighten. Why hadn't the boy woken him on first sight?

"Erwin Smith, son of Edvard Smith," he said, tearing his gaze from the untouched bowl. "I'm from the Sina village."

"Sina, huh?" The boy drew the stool from the corner to the edge of the mattress, and to the left of Erwin. A pair of scissors was in his grasp and his eyes fixated on Erwin's chest. "Your shirt."

Nodding, Erwin pulled the cloth away with small difficulty, a fresh bloom of pain erupting in his ribs and causing him to softly gasp for air. Looking down, the bandages around his chest were mostly white, but it was the right half that was speckled with blood.

He remained still despite the nicking ache in his back as the boy leaned close to cut the cloth away and unwind it from his body. Although he did receive a chill once he'd removed his shirt, the newly exposed skin tightened with gooseflesh. Once the boy moved to discard the bandages and grab a cloth to dunk in the water, Erwin assessed the mysterious damage.

As the sprinkle of blood had suggested, the right half of his chest was banged up. His pale skin was blotched black and purple from his armpit down to his waist. There was a deep and chilling gash along his ribs, and Erwin felt more confused than ever.

The boy was staring at him when he looked back up for an unasked explanation. Orange-red candlelight flickered in those dark eyes, causing Erwin to feel suspicious.

"Your name?" he asked gently, shifting so he could give the boy better access to his injury.

The boy in question finally looked away from him and moved closer, his hands wringing around the wet cloth. It stung terribly against his wound, but Erwin buckled under, biting his lip when the boy accidentally put too much pressure on it, causing blood to trickle out.

"Careful," he bit out when the boy did it again. He was given no answer, and Erwin could feel his exasperation mounting higher and higher. When the hitch of pain raced through him for a third time, Erwin couldn't help but snatch the boy's hand away.

"Let go," the boy said evenly, though Erwin could see a storm was brewing just beneath the surface. When the blonde man didn't relent, the boy pressed, "You'll get an infection."

The wrist he held was so small he could feel he'd be able to break it without much effort. He could feel the tension in the boy, and noticed how pale fingers curled more tightly into the cloth their owner held. When he felt more dribbles of blood running down his side, he finally let go. The boy's wrist came away red.

"Your name," he persisted.

Pink water sloshed into the bowl as the boy wrung the cloth violently. Erwin watched him with hawk-like eyes, his irritation flaming anew. The boy glared at him as he moved to face Erwin again, but he did not start forward, almost as if he knew the injured man before him would attack.

"It's not important," he finally said with the smallest of sighs.

"I'd like to know whose care I've been under," Erwin retaliated softly. He allowed the boy to advance to him again. The swipes against his wound were delicate this time. When the boy moved back and set the cloth in the bowl, he compromised, "the name of your village, then."

Holding a small jar, the boy uncorked it and a faint smell of minty herbs spread between them. Two fingers dipped in and produced a smooth salve. It felt nice and cool against Erwin's gash. "I don't belong to a village," he said quietly, keeping to his work.

"Where are we?"

"The forest," the boy deadpanned.

It was no use, Erwin was quickly realizing. The decision was made to put the matter away for another day, and he swallowed his frustration. His chest was bandaged back up, and he then gave the boy his ankle. Underneath the cloth his flesh was swollen and red, and he did his best to keep from moving. The boy took his time in moving it from side to side atop his thigh to take the stiffness away, and then he carefully cleaned and redressed it tightly.

Erwin looked to his arms then to the boy when he noticed a lack of movement. The boy was glaring again.

"You must be hungry," the boy said, moving to stand up.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" To emphasize his seriousness, Erwin held his arms out, wrists up.

The boy turned his back. "They'll be fine."

If he was going to play that game then, "No problem, I'll clean them myself." Erwin watched with curious satisfaction as the boy's back tensed just slightly, but when he didn't make another move, Erwin pinched the end of cloth on his left arm.

The boy was quick to slap his hands away from one another. He felt like his wrists would break. Like his soul would shatter from such an intense look.

"You're starving," the boy said, his voice low and passively hostile. "You should eat first."

Erwin held the boy's stare, unwilling to break it in hopes of peering deeper. His breath had caught in his throat and it felt as if poison were flowing through his veins. Finally it became too much and he looked away. His hands were thrown down, slapping against his thighs.

* * *

To make matters worse, he was treated to another thin root-based broth. The taste was horrible in his mouth but again it settled nicely in his stomach, filling and warming him up pleasantly. The moment the boy offered him a piece of bread after the bowl had been emptied, Erwin could have sworn there was nothing sweeter in the world.

"Have you eaten?" Erwin asked as the boy began clearing the side-table. Unlike last time, the boy remained mostly in the other room, letting him eat in peace.

The boy shot him a tired look. "No," he said, plunking the empty cup into the bowl. "You're more important."

It had taken about half an hour for the boy to prepare the meal, and Erwin himself had spent that time calming himself down. He supposed the boy had done the same, but he was noticeably more fatigued than before. Erwin drew a breath.

"Hunting in the winter is never easy," he said. "Battling the elements, searching for viable tracks, blending in…it's exhausting work." For all his trouble, the boy said nothing and left the room with dishes in hand.

Erwin sighed as he leaned back into the flat pillows propped behind him. Talking had always been so effortlessly natural to him…why was he stumbling now?

* * *

As usual, it didn't take long for Erwin to drift off. He fell deeply in the warmth surrounding him, dreaming of home and his friends and of better meals. He dreamt of the summer season where nature was fruitful and there was little to worry about. Erwin dreamt of the seasonal festivals and games. He was placing a bet with Mike of whose throw would be stronger, and the moment his spike struck the soft and grassy ground, he was rattled awake.

It was dark. Not even a candle illuminated the room. The moon couldn't be found and Erwin felt himself shake in the darkness, his chest heaving for air and his back aching to sit up away from the sweat it had accumulated. His mind was foggy and disorientated, but a sharp pain he had yet to experience knocked him right out of it.

Although he had little reason to believe in the scary folklore of his childhood and the daemons and monsters which used to haunt him, those stories were the first thoughts to cross his mind the moment he spotted a shadow along his bedside.

In a reflex of sudden fear, he lurched and swung, knocking the shadow right to the floor.

The adrenaline coursing through his body allowed him to never-mind his ankle as he shot out of the creaky bed and search frantically for the candle and match. His fingers fumbled over the wood but he found what he was feeling for. Out of the corner of his eye the shadow was moving slowly along the floor, and on the first try Erwin managed to strike a spark.

The sudden light caused Erwin to squint, but in the midst of it all, the shadow was now scuffling along the floor, and with the last of his strength Erwin grappled with one hand to capture it. He caught something solid, an ankle, as he brought the light closer, and with one swift movement, he recognized the shadow as the boy.

Even in the warm glow he was beyond pale. A frightened yet menacing look stared right back at him, and all Erwin could think of was a trapped animal willing to put up a fight. His grip around the boy's leg was tight, and the fleeting thought that he would run out of strength crossed his mind.

He held on tighter. "What are you doing?" he demanded, trying not to appear as breathless as the boy.

The boy attempted to wrench away, but Erwin held fast. Thin lips were pressed firmly together, causing his to chest puff up and down even more. Eventually that glare Erwin knew all too well settled back in place.

His patience had grown thin. "Tell me!"

The boy jerked his body one more time, and accidentally slipped off his hands and onto his back, his head knocking with a thunk. Erwin was about to repeat himself when those defiant eyes intensified from their slanted position.

"Levi," he said, his voice surprisingly hoarse. "My name is Levi."

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading!


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